Kumajiro the Polar Bear Explains His Departure
by RosemaryBagels
Summary: It wasn't supposed to end like this.


**Beta'd by Sora Resi**

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This wasn't what I…

I didn't mean it like…

It wasn't…

It wasn't supposed to end like this.

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There was something about the rain that day. A sweeping wave of melancholy that seeped into every crack and every pore, leaving the city feeling cold and damp.

You were upstairs in your room sleeping. I was downstairs perched on a windowsill, watching as the rain swept the dirt of the streets, but left the resentment that came with it lying where it always was. Usually I was with you, but the rhythmic purring of the rain had somehow demanded my attention.

We used to be close. We used to laugh and smile and eat together. We survived wars together. Your joy was my joy, and your pain was my pain. How could it change? How could it… end?

The bits and pieces have become so fuzzy that even though I know we were once friends, I can't remember one instance of us being so that isn't shadowed with doubt. Maybe there always was a chasm between us. Or maybe there never was one in the first place. I don't remember.

But when the rain stopped, there had been a half moon hanging in the big murky sky. There had been a half breath, almost a whisper, and then I was sweeping out into the streets, searching for something. There was something I wanted to desperately to fix, but I just can't remember… Why. Why?

I remember watching you from my hiding place, hearing your broken footsteps stumble down the street, calling out over and over. That strange melodic sound that anyone could say, but I knew only belonged to me.

I'd longed to run from my hiding place, to leap into your arms and prevent the tears from falling further, but I just couldn't. There was something wrong, my legs were numb and I couldn't force myself to move. I was absolutely desperate even just to cry out, to let you know I was okay… but I couldn't make myself.

I couldn't.

The weather turned colder as winter approached. The home I found was shared with the pigeons which hadn't moved on yet. I kept on hearing you, sometimes far and sometimes near, always calling but eventually slipping away. And it killed me. Every single time I heard you, a little piece of myself fell away.

But when your muffled footsteps faded, I would creep out into the abandoned machine yard, and stare at all the broken and run down machines; who, despite being abandoned, patiently waited for them men who would use them to come back to them again.

They were cold and broken, filled with a longing for something that had been, but could never be again. I would curl up and cling, desperately, to every little thing I could remember, trying to find the one piece that was missing, so I could go back to you.

I can remember waiting for you.

Sitting on the linoleum floor of your kitchen, staring at the doorknob as if it would make you come home faster. The house was always colder without you.

You would come in, with a smile on your face, which was only for me. You might have a box of pasta under one arm, or sometimes it was just a movie and a case of beer, but it always came with the food you bought me, which was somehow better than anything else I could ever find, simply because it was from you.

You'd curl up on the couch, and I'd curl into your side, and we'd share warmth as we watched a game, or a movie or some old tv show. I'd lick you, and you'd laugh, and you try to tickle me in revenge, which often ended with us rolling on the floor, me nuzzling into you, desperate to hear the sound. That melodic whisper.

If I ever got hurt, you would spend hours cleaning and bandaging, and then just stroking my fur, over and over as if I was the most precious thing in the world.

And when you were sleeping, I'd curl up beside you, and listen to the shallow breaths keeping time to the night. It made me smile, and want to protect you from every danger.

It's all gone now, though.

I tried to find what I was missing, there within the junkyard, but I forgot what I was trying to find. And the thoughts echoed louder and louder, because I knew that the longer you were without me, the more miserable you would become, but I couldn't come back. I couldn't come back without…

And suddenly I was running. Pushing myself forwards with screeching legs, just trying to get away, or maybe towards, just going, going, going until I was completely surrounded by white.

The emptiness surrounded me, as the wind whistled through, everything I was missing magnified and pushed back to me, exploding into my mind with extreme clarity and utter confusion at the same time.

Who am I?

Who am I?

Why was this what I forgot?

I could never remember who you were, but that was okay because I knew me, and you know you and we had other ways of remembering, but it's all gone now, because I once had a… name.

I forgot.

And it's stupid.

Because I can remember the fact that I was happy with you. I can remember the sweet tinkling of your laugh, the graceful way you moved, the beautiful scent that followed you everywhere. I can remember the warmth of you beside me, and your careful fingers running through my hair, but try as I might I can't remember your face.

I can't remember what you looked like, or what you house looks like, or how I got here so I can't go home. I can't come home to you, and it's all because I was stupid.

And it aches so bad, it burns sometimes. And I scream to the wind because I can never go back. I can never find you again. I hate myself for it, because all I wanted to do was fix us, and I ruined it.

Because I can't remember.

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_I can't remember the sound, you found for me._

_I can't remember the sound, you found for me._

_I can't remember the sound._

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**All credit goes to the band The Weakerthans and their song Virtue the Cat Explains Her Departure.**


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